I'm dead inside anyway
by bananapancakes666
Summary: Ste's POV which i dont normally write. Starts very sad and angsty after Ste is dragged away from Brendan at the hospital and will end with a Stendan reunion. Not sure how long it will be or how close to canon it'll end up but i hope you read long enough to find out. other characters will appear in various chapters too.
1. Chapter 1

_This chapter is very sad and depressing but if you can survive this i'll try to make sure it gets better if you keep reading. starts from just after Ste is pulled away from Brendan at the hospital_

* * *

I feel like I can't breathe. Like there's no reason to any more. The air aches with loneliness, reeks of pain and too many words whispered and too many left unsaid. My movements are clumsy and heavy as though a rope is tied between us and every step he takes away from me pulls my soul further from my body until I'm nothing but an empty sack on useless bones and blood that's burning as it tries to follow him, escape from the prison of my lonely flesh. I find myself outside, blue sky and sound of cars, of birds, of life startling me. It never occurred to me that the rest of the world could be continuing the way it always has when mine has stopped completely. The pavement, hard beneath my dragging feet, feels endless as I stumble towards my car, working on some kind of homing instinct rather than rational thought. In my head all I see is him, the glazed eyes, the raised hand, the black hair which is a shade lighter than the darkness in his heart.

The slamming of the car door echoes, adds to the deafening screaming inside my own head, the remnants of the howls which had fallen on deaf ears as I was torn from the room, from him, from all that I had left. I grip the steering wheel, glad of something solid and real to grasp onto to stop myself slipping from reality and allowing the depths of despair to consume me, to let the pain take over and to let it all hit me. He's really gone. The salty tears pool in the corner of my mouth as though they were afraid to drop from my cheeks and fall alone. My lips tingle but not from the cut that pierces the lower one. They tingle from the ghost of so many kisses, so much love, so much passion. Now they press together, each one desperate to give the comfort the other so badly craves. People walk by, stare in but quickly avert their gaze, worried that if they look at me too long then my torment will become theirs. I'm not sure how long I sit there watching the sky and trying to tell myself as long as we're both under it that he's not really so far away. But even the sky seems sad, seems lower today, as if it were as fragile as my heart and just as close to collapsing in on itself. I grip the steering wheel tighter the whiter my knuckles become, sure that if I had just held on to him this tightly then nothing would have changed. Eventually, a deep rumbling in my stomach alerts me to the fact that I've not eaten or slept for hours. My whole body aches like my brain is determined to make this pain physical so that it can be healed with a few pills and a day in bed. The alternative is too destructive to even consider. I know I shouldn't drive in this trance, that I'm likely to cause an accident. I start the engine regardless.

Much to my despair, I make it home alive. The smell as I open the door sickens me. It smells like home, like love and happiness and everything that I've lost. I throw open a window and instantly shut it again, don't want the world to see me like this. I steady myself against the work top. I feel drunk without the warmth, without the oblivion and without the courage; just feel the confusion and the hangover. I close my eyes but immediately open them again, the sight of him inside my eyelids worse than anything beyond them. My hand closes around a bottle and I drink from it, not even aware of what it is, just know that it scalds to swallow. I can hear the laughter, eerily faint, even in my head. I can see empty figures sitting at the table, at the sink, on the sofa. I remember what it felt like to finally have everything I'd ever wanted. That's when I see it. The picture. Pinned pride of place on the kitchen wall, illuminated by the garish yellow wallpaper beneath it. Messy but colourful and full of the innocence and joy that only a child could relay onto paper. The crooked smiles of the two men staring up from the page seem mocking and cruel now, their linked hands a symbol of their unity in their triumph, safe in the knowledge that their happiness is immortalised in crayon while mine is lost and broken and erased without leaving any sign of it ever existing. My fingers trace the blonde hair of the little girl stick figure, move to the blue eyes of the little cartoon boy and finally to the pink lips of the tallest man. My legs fold just as easily as the paper as I find myself a heap on the floor, clutching the crumpled picture to my chest as though it could hold in my heart and stop it from disappearing along with my future.

The bed is cold and empty, too large for just me. I'm drawn to the dent in the mattress by the same force of nature that pulled me to the man who used to occupy it. A few black hairs are still dusted across the pillow and I resist the urge to reach across and hug it for fear of removing what little trace of him remains. I tighten the cord on this hoodie, his hoodie and let the smell of him envelope me, consume me until I eventually fall asleep pretending that the arms I've wrapped around myself are his. My dreams won't let me fool myself so easily though. I see him through a window, hammer on it until my knuckles are bloody and my throat is scratchy by screaming his name but he doesn't see me. Then the window turns dark, becomes smaller and smaller and just before it vanishes completely he turns and looks me right in the eye and reaches out as though the last thing he wants is for me to disappear. I wake up screaming his name for the fifth time that night and decide that this is a hopeless task.

* * *

The air outside is appropriately cold and damp. It's both refreshing and subduing. The perks of living in such a dodgy area is that there's always an off licence open in the early hours that don't care why you want a litre bottle of vodka at 3am and ask no questions about your black eye or your cut lip. I find a wall to perch against under a huge tree in a dark lane where no one could see me if they were to walk past which is unlikely at this time of night. I discard the top of the bottle, flicking it over the wall and into the undergrowth behind me. I won't be needing it. The first swig is vile, pure alcohol which my throat protests against and tries to reject but I don't let it. By my third swig I'm numb to everything but the cold liquid sliding down my chest filling trying to fill all the holes that he left. An image flashes through my mind of water pouring out of holes in my body like when people get shot in bad cartoons.

I sit and imagine it until the bottle is empty and I can't seem to get my legs to straighten and it's no longer just the dark that's blinding me. My head is spinning, the dizziness of intoxication replacing the swirling of anguish that's had me dizzy since long before I took my first sip. I drag myself along the wall, holding myself up on weak arms, frequently stumbling but feeling nothing when I hit the ground. I throw up twice and consequently feel emptier than I did before. Eventually I fall and don't bother to get up again. I curl up on the ground with only his hoodie to protect me from the drizzle that's descended. I pass out praying that I never wake up. It doesn't really matter if I do though. I'm dead inside anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up in bed not knowing how I got there or when. I tell myself that if lie still for long enough my heart and my lungs will follow the example and stop moving too. I feel my body screaming. Little men with knives are stabbing my eyes out from the inside. The sun is like acid dissolving my skin until it feels like I'm just a puddle of nothing beneath covers that feel like bricks. My bones feel like they've been run over by a tank, reduced to powder then sewn back together with the needles left in. A bucket left beside the bed catches my attention as do the two aspirin and fresh glass of water on the bedside table. Alarmed, I sit bolt upright in bed and call out. Mistake. My hangover hits me like a train, knocking me back into the pillows with all the gentleness of a gladiator armed with a sledgehammer. I feel someone in the room and hope flitters through me without my permission, filters into the broken shards of my heart ensuring that it will hurt all the more when I open my eyes and find its not him. The pain is stalled by shock however, when I see the face that was once so familiar to me and now brings a thousand memories flooding over me with one smile.

"Amy?" My words come out strangled and empty, throat aching from the vomiting and the drinking and the sobbing. I can't believe she's here. I don't really trust my senses at the moment though, all the things I thought I saw and smelt and heard and felt yesterday tricking me into a false sense of security only to devastate me all again when I remembered it's over. "Here." She smiles, handing me the water and smoothing away the hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. I take a sip and struggle to swallow the pills. Leaning back against the headboard and waiting for my pulse to stop hammering from the effort of moving I take the time to really look at her. She looks good. Her stay in Africa has left her perfectly tanned but her pale skin still shines through beneath preserving her snow-white beauty that always made her stand out. The light that radiates from her smile and her hair shows that she's happy and I'm both glad that she's doing okay and jealous that I'll never be happy again. Her eyes sparkle with concern and love and I want to hug her but I can barely gather the strength to raise my eyelids let alone my arms. "What you doin' here, Ames?". The smell of bacon wafts from the kitchen, forcing a loud grumble from my stomach. I can't remember the last time I had anything to eat but the thought of it causes bile to rise in my chest. She laughs, the first jovial sound to grace my ears for so long, and takes my hand. "I'll get you some breakfast." She stands and kisses my hair, the first person to kiss me since him and I can't decide whether its comforting or not.

I haul myself out the bed, legs unstable as if they were made of string. Staggering towards the scent of bacon, I join Amy at the worktop where she hands me a cup of tea that I sip eagerly to fill the silence. I look down and suddenly notice that I'm wearing pyjamas not the tracksuit and hoodie I put on last night. "Where's me clothes?" I demand, slamming the mug on the counter with more force than necessary. The liquid spills out the sides and trickles to the floor. Amy grabs a cloth and wipes it up, avoiding my gaze as she mumbles, "I washed it."

"You what?"

"Well you had sick on it and it was all muddy."

She washed it. She washed my hoodie. _His_ hoodie. Washed away the smell of him, his DNA and now I have nothing. Suddenly it all comes back to me; the reason I haven't seen her and have barely spoken to her for months. I remember her distrust of him, taking the kids, ruining our chance at happiness before anything else even threatened it.

"Who do you think you are?" I ask, incredulous. She lost the right to interfere when my life when she walked away, taking my world with me. All the pain and the loss is muted by the anger rising in me, washing over me and I'm as powerless to stop it as I was before he calmed me down by gaving me something to lose. I feel her hand on mine as she finally mutters, "I heard. About Brendan. I'm so sorry, Ste." His name is like a hook through my guts and the dark cloud descends again. I pull my hand away, unexpectedly disgusted by her touch.

"No you're not." It all comes tumbling out before I can stop it. "Go on, say it. _I told you so_. That's why you're here, innit? To gloat. You don't care that he's changed, that he's gonna spend the rest of his life behind bars for summat he didn't do! You never even gave him a chance, did you?! You didn't care that the kids loved him, that _I _loved him! No one did…" I trail off, embarrassed and sore and deafened by my own words and burdened by their truth.

She recoils slighty, shocked. "Ste, you know I had no choice-".

"No, Amy, don't, right? You didn't see 'im with the kids! You didn't see the way he was with me! Not this time. You have no idea what he went through. You have no idea what _I__'__m _going through. So don't pretend you care about my happiness now, right! It's too late." She looks at me the way she used to after I'd hit her, as though I'd taken years of love and dedication and thrown it all back in her face. I watch her step back, smooth her dress down and blink back the tears I know are threatening to explode. I'd feel guilty but there's no room left in my heart or my head for anymore negative emotions. I'm numb to everything but grief. "I'll.. I'll leave you to eat your breakfast." Her words are barely audible as she grabs her jacket from the sofa and turns to leave. "Where you going?" I reach out, suddenly scared to be left alone, despite my recent outburst. She hesitates. I imagine she's trying to decide whether or not to lie to me. "To get the kids." She whispers, opting for the truth. It's like my lungs have forgotten how to work. If it wasn't for the work top behind me I'm not sure I'd still be standing. "The kids?" I croak. "They're 'ere?" My skin tingles, itches with the knowledge that they're so close but yet so far away. "Let me see them."

"Ste, I don't think -"

"Please, Amy." It's barely more than a breath, red hot tears of my own spilling down my cheeks. "Just let me see my kids."


	3. Chapter 3

It's one of those hot, sticky nights where the air and your blood and your breath are all the same unbearable temperature so you're just uncomfortably existing in skin that feels too tight. A hot sweaty night perfect for hot sweaty sex. My body writhes in the empty bed, subconsciously twists towards the body that isn't there. Sweat trickles down my arms so that when I close my eyes I can pretend its not sweat making its way down my leg, but his finger. Covers lay abandoned on the floor, discarded in a frustrated struggle. I didn't feel any less exposed with them on any way.

The cold kitchen tiles are a welcome contrast to the humid carpet of the bedroom as I pad across them and pour myself a drink of ice cold water, savouring the pain as it flies down my burning throat and temporarily freezes the acid in my knotted stomach. My eyes tingle as I splash the water on my face, stoop over the sink face in hands and let out an exasperated sigh

"Daddy?" The small voice in the dark startles me as I spin round and see my daughter; beautiful and bleary eyed standing in the hall. My eyes fall upon the teddy she's clutching; a polar bear with a tiara and I swear I can still hear the carols, smell the cookies, see the smiles from that Christmas glistening in the dark kitchen. I scoop Leah into my arms and sit her on the work top. "What you doin up, princess?"

A tiny crinkle appears on her forehead as she reaches out a tiny hand and fixes my fringe which is dishevelled from the tossing and turning. . I thought he was the only one who did that. Sometimes it's easy to forget she's not his biological daughter. Or mine,.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Yeah..me neither". I can't remember the last time I slept properly.

"Where's Daddy Brendan?" Leah's words seep into the room like tear gas, soaking into my bones and paralysing me until all I can do is stare at her and suffocate on words that I can't expect our beautiful little girl to understand. I hold her closer and smooth her glowing hair, taking a minute just to inhale her and appreciate being able to hug her again.

"Daddy Brendan's go..he's had to go away for a little while." She looks up at me, eyes huge and trusting and a look of understanding flitters across them.

"Like Doug did?" She's all too familiar with being left and I squeeze her tighter, trying to convey just how sorry I am for all of this without using words.

"Erm yeah…Sort of…Daddy Brendan…he didn't want to leave." It hurts to even think about him and his name scalds my tongue. "He loved you… very much." I know he didn't know you for very long but he did, okay?" She nods. "He would have done anything for us; you, me and Lucas. We were his family. We _are_ his family. And nothing will ever change that."

Leah's eyes fill with tears but she nods again and throws her arms around my neck and clings to me as though she's scared that if she ever lets go then she'll lose me as well. "I love him too, Daddy." she mumbles into my neck. Then we're both crying, shaking and sobbing in the middle of the kitchen and I wish more than anything that he was there to to kiss it better, to wipe our tears, plaster up our hearts and sing to us until we calmed down.

She eventually stills and I pull back gently to see that's fallen asleep on my shoulder. As if I was handling a china doll, I carefully carry her to her bed, tuck her in and lie down beside her. There's not enough room but she snuggles up to me and for the first time since I lost him, I don't feel utterly alone as I fall asleep.

* * *

They've grown. I didn't notice it so much yesterday in the dark, didn't think it was possible that they could have changed so much in so little time but they have. Leah's hair is longer, luminous blonde like her mum's. Lucas has had his cut, it's less of a floppy mess now, more fashionable but I miss being able to ruffle my fingers through it. Lucas is taller too and Leah's lost weight and I try not to worry that it's because Amy isn't feeding her right, or that she's ill or stressed about something, reminder myself that it's normal for children to stretch and shrink as they get older but it's just another painful reminder that I'm not there to see her grow. Lucas has a tiny scratch on his knee and I can't help but wonder who was there to kiss it better, to wipe his tears and put a plaster on it and sing to him until he calmed down. It should have been me.

We're sitting in college coffee, an obviously public place deemed safer than my flat. Amy's hovering between me and them as though on guard in case I show any signs of snapping again. I'd promised her that I wouldn't but even I couldn't be entirely certain. She doesn't know about mine and Leah's little chat, I'd crept back to my own bed in the early hours and Leah had instinctively agreed to keep my secret. Guilt hangs over me as I remember how many lies she's had to keep for me. Despite this, both kids seem oblivious to the tension between their parents, gleefully nibbling at the cakes I've bought them. "My treat" I'd said with a lump in my throat, although truthfully I could barely afford to feed myself seeing as I've barely shown my face at the deli since…since everything happened. "So, how d'you like your new school then Leah?" I ask once the lump in my throat that formed upon seeing and smelling and touching them again and hasn't yet faded. She takes a while to look up as though she's forgotten what my voice sounds like and I smile to mask the fact that that sends painful little shocks straight through my heart. "It's alright thanks" she answers, far too polite. I wonder what happened to the sassy, cheeky little girl who didn't let you get a word in edgeways. "And how's you Lucas? Still doing your judo?" He doesn't answer me, just nods shyly. I realise then that I've nearly forgotten what his voice sounds like too.

"Daddy Brendan used to like this cake."

"Leah!" Amy hisses, every muscle in her body stiffening at the use of the word 'daddy'. Leah looks stung, completely unaware of what she's doing wrong and the hatred I felt for Amy in the kitchen bubbles in my blood again. "It's alright sweetheart. He did, yeah." I say, smiling reassuringly and placing a hand over her own tiny fingers. Amy glares at me and I can sense her itching to take the kids and run but I don't take any notice. Lucas is looking at me properly for the first time since he ran through the door and into my arms last night. He doesn't understand any of this, understands even less than Leah and I'm sort of glad, hopeful that that will save him a little bit of pain. Leah looks up at me, eyes huge and trusting and a look of understanding flitters across them. "Eat it all up then guys, we need to get going soon. "What, already? I thought we could spend the day together!" Panic rises in me, mingled with anger. Why did she bring them back if she was just going to snatch them away from me again? "Please, Mummy!" Lucas' voice is small and nervous but we both hear it as loud as if he'd stood on the table and shouted it through a megaphone. Amy looks from me, to the kids and back again. I feel tears welling in my eyes and try to telepathically pass my pain to her, let her see what she's doing to me, what all this is doing to me. "Come on, kids we need to get going. Say goodbye to Daddy."

When she eventually peels them off me and carries Leah and Lucas away from me, out of my life and taking the last good thing with it I'm empty. I don't feel pain like I did before. I don't feel anger or sadness or loss. I feel nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm really sorry about the mixup, I did indeed upload an old chapter from Forever into this one by accident. Sorry guys, thank you for pointing it out to me!_

_I really hated writing this chapter but I needed to for the story. Hope it's not as unbearable to read as it was to write. _

* * *

I'm disrupted from my drink-induced coma by a unrelenting knock at the door. Rolling off the sofa, I stumble through an ocean of empty beer cans, discarded pizza boxes, crumpled Chinese cartons and open the door. The piercing blue eyes on the other side widen with something like shock, maybe a hint of concern. I roll my eyes and stagger back inside, grab another beer and flop back down on the sofa. My head is spinning but I prefer it that way. This way no one thought can come into focus enough to torture me.

"What d'yu want?" I know I'm being rude but I'm not in the mood for company. Rarely am these days.

"I came to see if you were alright. You've barely been to work in weeks" How have I never noticed how irritating his accent was before?

"I'm fine." I grunt in his direction, mouth full of beer.

"No, you're not, Ste! Look at this place! Look at you!" I nonchalantly glance down at my crumpled track suit bottoms and stained t-shirt, shrugging.

"'S'not like I have anyone to impress these days is it?"

Doug moves aside the dirty clothes strewn across the chair with the very tip of his finger as though he was afraid they were gonna come alive and bite him. I shake my head at his snobbery but say nothing.

"C'mon Ste, I know it's hard bu-"

"Do you, Doug? Do you _really_ know how I feel?"

"I think I got a pretty good idea, yeah. Come on, you're better than this, I know you are." The judgmental look in his eyes as they flitter around the room makes my skin crawl.

"No, I'm not. _You're_ better than _me_. That's what you really think innit? That's what you've always thought. You've got no idea what it's like to be me. You with your posh family from America and your uni and your friends." He doesn't reply, just stares at me like I'm a stranger. "This is the real me, right? Scally Ste. Always up to no good. Worthless. I'm not the person you tried to make me be." Doug opens his mouth to protest but my anger is controlling my mouth more than my brain and the beer is making me loose lipped. "I just lost the only man I ever loved." I don't look at him when I say it, don't need to to know how much that will hurt him. What disturbs me is that I'm _glad_ it hurts. Glad that I'm no longer alone in my pain, that I'm not the only one who's lost everything.

"Just get out, will you Doug?" He pauses at the door.

"You need to move on sometime, Ste."

Then I sit back and watch my last friend walk out on me.

* * *

_"You need to move on." _Doug's words ring in my ears as I sit in The Dog watching the scotch disappear from my class. I inwardly curse myself for answering the door to the preaching prick. Like he's done such a good job of moving on. I feel eyes burning into the back of my head and turn to see the boy from the shop with the sticky out ears, Geoffrey or Gerard or something, staring my way. "Can I 'elp you?" I snap, gesturing for Darren to refill my glass.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" the boy says, appearing suddenly at my side.

"Why don't _you_ mind your own business?"

"Never had you down as a scotch man. Thought you'd be more of a cocktail kinda guy." Is he still here? I shoot him my best death stare and roll my tongue around my teeth, desperately pretending that it's _his_ breath I'm tasting the whiskey on and not my own. The boys still rambling on and once I get my eyes to focusI take the time to really look at him. He's wearing a hideously patterned shirt, bright and tropical. His legs are like twigs and his skin he's so skinny that he makes me look like a body builder in comparison, which is really saying something these days. His eyes twinkle with a certain wisdom but they're full of innocence. He's clean shaven, so young he probably doesn't even have chest hair yet. The voice however, is irritating; too high and too full of enthusiasm. "D'yu ever shut up?" I try to stand, slide off the bar stool to find that my legs have forgotten they're purpose and sink against the bar with a groan. The boy puts his arm out to steady me and leaves it on my waist when I regain my balance. "Think we'd better get you home." His arm tightens around my waist as he hauls me off the bar and tries to pull me out the room. "Blimey, you're keen." I giggle as he tries to steer me towards the door. He's far too skinny to support me but eventually we make it to my door.

It's warm but my hands are numb as I fumble to find my keys. Without being asked, he reaches into my pocket and retrieves them for me. The brief warmth of his hand as it brushes against me is strangely welcome and I find myself craving more of it. "Thanks." I flash him a smile and don't miss the flush beneath his peaky cheeks. God, he's so young. "Think you'd better help me inside. Just to make sure I don't burn the house down or owt". I trip through the door, pulling him in by the shirt and slamming the door behind us.

He hovers in the hall as though he's not really sure what he's doing here. I find my way to the kitchen and throw him a can of beer. "No, thanks." he refuses feebly. "I don't really drink." _For fucks sake._ If I'd wanted to hang out with a goody two shoes I'd have invited Doug.

"Live a little." I urge, opening the can for him and replacing it in his hand. "Sit down."

Rummaging through the mess, I find another full can and sink to the floor. A few seconds later he joins me. He starts talking again but I just sip my beer and watch his outlines get more blurred and his voice grows dimmer. _"Move on". _Doug's voice echoes in my head and pushes me towards the boy opposite me until we're almost touching. Eventually he stops talking and gazes up at me through dark eyelashes. He looks nervous, and embarrassed and it's strange to think that someone is here, looking at me like they actually see me again. He opens his mouth to talk again so I stop him the only way I know how.

At first my body squirms at the touch, blazingly aware that these are not the lips I want against mine. Then, just for a second, I feel better. Like for the first time since that day I'm not absolutely invisible, that I haven't disappeared. Closing my eyes, I completely forget the boy attached to the tentative lips and just make the most of feeling something, anything, again. Now that I've broken the shell I can't seem to stop and my body tingles like it wants more. I stumble to my feet, bringing him with me. "C'mon." I breathe into the mouth, retreating towards the bedroom. Then they're gone, the lips, pulled back just a few steps but it's enough to force me to remember who they belong to. "What's wrong?" I slur with barely concealed impatience. "I've…I've never done this before.." _Is that all? _Is that what he stopped me for? It's not as though I'm used to one night stands lately either. I don't allow myself time to start regretting this one. "You can trust me." An empty promise but it works and he comes when I drag him into the bedroom and throw him onto the bed. Our bed. _No, not tonight. _This is exactly why I need to do this. To distract myself. To move on.

I claw at the repulsive shirt, happy to discard it, then rip off the ridiculously skinny jeans and boxers with a little more difficulty. He doesn't help, looks scared but I tell myself that if he wanted me to stop he would say so. Standing back, I observe how completely different he is to Brendan. He's completely hairless when I'm used to feeling that coarseness beneath my tongue and fingers. He's less than half the size in every respect and he looks awkward lying there instead of cocky like _he_ would. I convince myself that this is what I need, I need someone utterly different.

Stripping out of my own shirt, I fall onto him, run my hands along the unfamiliarly smooth skin. There are muscles there but they're nothing like his, they lack the power that rippled through _his_ like _he_ could command me with just one flex. The boy smells like expensive aftershave that smells more like girls perfume and I miss the smell of a man, of my man; sweat and sex and whiskey.

My hands continue to roam in search of something solid and real but he mistakes it for desire and I watch him tip his head back and hum contentedly. If this is turning him on his past fucks obviously haven't been very exciting. I have to remind myself again that what _we_ had was special, different, that normal couples don't have the kind of passion we did. I rummage around in the top drawer and find an old condom and a half used tube of lube, half used because it wasn't needed after a while.

I stop myself thinking after that, just let my body do whatever it needs to do until he's bent over and I'm fucking him a lot harder than I should be fucking someone so obviously young and inexperienced. I halt when he winces, drop a loveless kiss on his fragile neck to reassure him but then I start again. This is weird for me too, haven't topped since Doug and that feels like a life time ago now. It must've come back to me pretty quickly though, because the boy beneath me is gasping and hard. It's great at first, fresh and exciting but then I ache to have _him_ inside of me, to feel _his_ balls slamming against my arse with all the passion of the early days and security of the later ones.

It's only by thinking of that that I mange to finish and collapse onto the bed, panting from the pain of remembering what I'll never have again. He lies down next to me, puts his head on my chest. I resist the urge to shove him off, slinging an arm over him instead. He starts to talk again but I'm hazier than ever and I barely take in what he's saying. I fall asleep to him tracing circles on my chest with his finger. I suppose it's actually kind of nice not to have the bed to myself for once.


End file.
